


Jaskier and The Burning of Bones

by thebitchywitcher



Series: Geraskier and The Near Death Experiences [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Basically inspired by spn, Episode: s04e06 Yellow Fever, M/M, This is gonna be a series, also also later in the series is the reveal, also geralt has feelings, also i used the nickname jask ur welcome, also idk how to write horse interactions, also jaskier is not human, also the author was too lazy to write action so, and roach is done with their shit, basically the series is jaskier almost dying 100x, jaskier gets yellow fever, so eventual kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebitchywitcher/pseuds/thebitchywitcher
Summary: Jaskier gets yellow fever, Geralt has feelings.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier and The Near Death Experiences [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653142
Comments: 5
Kudos: 192





	Jaskier and The Burning of Bones

**Author's Note:**

> I know yellow fever isnt a thing in the Witcher, let me live. Also HOW DO HORSES WORK. Not editing we die like idiots.

"Jaskier, stop messing with it." Geralt growls, yanking the bards hand from his arm yet again. The bard groans, covering his face with his hands as he complains.

"Geralt, I am dying." He wails, shoulders shaking with fake sobs. "All these years and this is what does me in." Later, Geralt will understand those words in their entirety. But now he simply rolls his eyes, pulling Roach closer to the village.

"Calm down, we still have 24 hours to figure this out- you usually aren't one to be concerned with impending mortality." The Witcher laughs at his own joke, watching the bard out of his peripheral. 

"It's usually not an issue." The man scowls, sighing and kicking at a rock in his way. Geralt thinks on those words, and Jaskier isn't wrong. Typically, Geralt is always there to pull his ass out of the fire. But this time Geralt can't just punch his way to save Jaskier. The rash burning up the bards arm is enough evidence to suggest the ghost sickness the Witcher had read about. Yellow fever, many called it.

"Well, we'll find the ghost and put it to rest easily enough." Geralt nods, mostly to himself seeing as Jaskier is staring out over the forest to their right. For a moment Geralt worries, wondering if Jaskier will be able to burn the remains when they find it. If they find it. The Witcher shakes those thoughts away, of course they will find it. Jaskier will be alright- he has to.

"Yeah, can't wait." The man utters, kicking dust as he walks. 'Like a child'. Geralts mind supplies, making him grin slightly and look away from the bard. Roach huffs, knocking her head into his shoulder and looking away like she didn't. Geralt sighs, thinking maybe Roach is just as concerned as him. 

The village looms closer as they pass a short building on its outskirts, to women turning towards eachother to gossip when they see the man. No doubt wondering if Geralt had dispatched the ghost killing the towns residents, and he would have if Jaskier hadn't shown up and gotten infected. Just his luck, being a Witcher.

"C'mon, you smell like...gross." Jaskier huffs, motioning to the inn they had paid for the day before. The stop hadn't meant to produce a hunt, but Geralt couldn't deny the sweet bakers wife who didn't shy from his gaze. The woman had been no older than 50, and hadn't hesitated to lecture the Witcher on his dirty shoes in her bakery. Jaskier had thrown his charm around and suddenly she was a blushing maiden. The bard is insufferable. After that it wasn't hard to get the information about the hunt, and then the meager coin Geralt was regretting accepting. 

The Witcher allows Jaskier to pull him towards the building, stopping first at the stables to put away a tired Roach. The horse only stomped her hooves once before Geralt supplied her with food. With a shove of her head, Geralt follows his companion into the inn, slapping his scratching nails from his arm. "Don't mess," he reminds, like chidding a child. Jaskier sighs but tucks his wrist away as they enter.

The patrons turn to look at the pair, but neither offer any words. Not even Jaskier, who remains silent and walks up the stairs to their room with solemn silence. Geralt rolls his eyes at the dramatics, even when his own stomach knots. He find the innkeep behind the counter, counting coin and drinking ale. He produces two small coins, pointing to the stairs. "A bath," he requests without really asking, able to finally smell his own stink. The man quirks a brow but nods, quickly shouting to someone the request. He snatches the coin and adds it to his pile to count, dismissing Geralt.

Geralt rolls his eyes but turns to head up the stairs, ready to ignore Jaskiers insistent moaning and groaning about his newfound sickness. The Witcher pushes open the door to their shared room, regretting his desire to save a little coin. He stops dead when Jaskier comes into view, shocked with the scene laid out in front of him. 

Jaskier lays on his side, on the small bed facing the wall. If Geralt didn't know any better he would assume the man was crying, his shoulders shaking and his breath shuddering. But- no. In all the time of knowing the man, he had not cried- not even during the djin. 

As if hearing him, Jaskier stops moving and lies still. If Geralt weren't a Witcher he would believe the act that he's sleeping, but even as it is he will pretend. Not to spare the bards dignity, but to spare the akwardness of him trying to comfort the man. 

Instead, he drops his gear at the foot of his bed, and strips off his armor. Typically, Jaskier helps with this part. Not because Geralt wants him to but because he somehow thinks that it's his job to help the Witcher. As if it makes up for all the bloody trouble the bard gets into.

A soft knock shocks Geralt from his thoughts, and he glances at Jaskier once more before walking to the door to open it. A young woman with a bucket of water and flushed cheeks stands on the other side. She keeps her eyes to the floor as she speaks. "Your bath, sir." She whispers, quiet like a mouse. Geralt nods, moving aside to let her in without speaking. She enters and lets her eyes roam, her mouth falling open when she sees Jaskier on the bed.

The Witcher sighs, realizing what the girl must think but makes no move to speak. He doubts anyone will believe her gossip anyways. He turns to his 'sleeping' friend, as two other girls enter to fill the tub. Keeping up the facade he's half tempted to throw something at the man, but understands why he may be upset.

Instead he walks to the side of the bed, resting a hand on Jaskiers arm and shaking gently. "Wake up, Jaskier. There's a bath." He hears the girls leave quickly, the door shutting behind them as the bard wakes. Geralt quickly removes his hand as the man sits up, brow furrowing at the feeling in his chest as he does so. Dissapointment? No, that can't be. 

"Finally, I may stink, but you smell like fish." The man wrinkles his nose and stretches, yawning slightly. Geralt frowns, subtly smelling himself in a way that makes Jaskier laugh. 

"Your hair looks ridiculous," The Witcher fires back, feeling childish for even saying anything. He quickly hurries to remove the rest of his armor and undress while Jaskier speaks.

"Oh, good one. I've never met someone quite as witty. You learn that from Yennefer?" He bites, irritation quite not there as Geralt sinks into the tub. He responds with a humm, half a mind to use up all the hot water before he remembers that Jaskier is considered dying. 

He reaches up to wash his hair when a hand smacks his away, startling him slightly. He turns to look at Jaskier, wondering how the man manages to sneak up on him like he does. The bard doesn't meet his eyes, silently starting the task of washing Geralts hair. The Witcher considers this and then internally shrugs, if it makes the man stop worrying so much he can wash his hair.

"What are the symptoms again, Geralt?" The bard asks, voice soft like he speaks to women or people he wants to charm. The other man almost doesn't respond, not wanting to alarm the man, but does.

"You will be afraid of many things, the rash of course, you will begin to see things, and then the fear will kill you." Geralt sighs, but wonders if Jaskier has been afraid of anything yet. He didn't seem like it, but the rash is prominent. "Have you feared anything yet?" 

"Yes all the time." Comes the snarky response, followed by a deep sigh. "From the illness? Yes, quite a few things. I was afraid to walk back to town, I was afraid I would fall down the stairs, and then I am afraid when I step into this bath I will drown." Geralt lets his hands close into fists beneath the water, jaw clenching as he lets out a slow breath. For a moment he wishes it was him, wishes Jaskier didn't have to go through this- wonders why its always the people he cares about who get hurt-

Cares about? Oh lord.

"I wouldn't let you trip down the stairs, or drown, Jaskier." Geralt says instead of how much he cares about the bard. Cares? Does he? Or is it his Witcher complex that makes him want to kill whatever is responsible for the sickness. 

"I know, Witcher." The way Jaskier says the name doesn't make Geralt want to glare or growl. It makes his scalp tingle where Jaskier touches him, makes his head spin. He shoves it all away with a growl, slapping the bard hands away to stand.

"Your turn." The man steps away from his friend, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around his waist easily. When he turns back to Jaskier he finds the man nervously hugging his clothed body. "Jaskier, you can't bathe with your clothes on." The Witcher rolls his eyes, trying to stomp down the left over feeling of Jaskiers hands on his scalp.

"Geralt what if-" he cuts himself off as he unbuttons his shirt, hands shaking. Guilt bites a hole in Geralt resolve to stay distant from his companion. The dirty shirt falls to the floor, soon followed by the bards pants and the rest of his clothes until he is as naked at Geralt. The Witcher is no stranger to the bards naked body, he's seen his fair share of it. But seeing the mans tembling form in front of the bath is almost too vulnerable. He keeps his eyes on the face of his companion.

"What if I drown?" The bard worries, biting his lip and looking from Geralt to the tub and then back again.

"I will save you." The Witcher simplifies.

"What if I slip getting out?" He asks, and the corners of Geralts eyes soften. 

"I will carry you from the bath if you wish, Jaskier, just please get in." The bard's eyes widen, not used to the word 'please' falling from the white haired man's lips no doubt. 

"But Geralt I-" fed up, the Witcher takes two strides to Jaskier, deciding the reason the man cowars is an affect of the fever, and lifts him easily. An arm slides under his knees, another around his back, the smaller man yelps loudly as he's placed in the no doubt cold water. 

Ignoring the feeling Jaskier being in his arms brings, he steps away after depositing the man who looks up at him with wide eyes. "Call me when you're finished, Jaskier." 

He turns to dress, only halting when his friend speaks. "Thank you, Geralt." He nods and moves to their bags. 

It only takes him a few minutes to dress, but that must be all the bathtime a terrified Jaskier can take, because once he's finished a timid voice calls his name. It's so different from his Jaskier -his jaskier? When did that become a thing?- that he almost doubts he heard it at all. 

Nevertheless, he turns to the tub, to Jaskier with his knees drawn up to his chest. Without complaint the Witcher walks to the tub, reaching in. One hand grasps his upper arm, pulling him up until his other arm wraps around Jaskier back. He helps him step out of the tub, until the man shivers and drips on the wood flooring of the room. "Clothing you is where I draw the line, Jaskier." The taller man jokes, hoping to draw some smile from his companion. 

"What a time for you to gain a funny bone, Geralt." The other man quips, reaching for the towel Geralt passes him and wraps around his body. "I don't even think I have the energy to play tonight," he speaks as he reaches his clothing.

"I'm sure everyobe will be real disappointed." The Witcher responds, grabbing his sword and beginning the process of cleaning it. Anything to keep his mind from straying to the naked bard in front of him. 

"Haha, very hilarious." The man mutters as he buttons a loose shirt that looks suspiciously too dark to be his. In fact, it looks like Geralts. "I hope we find this damned body tomorrow, this shit itches." The younger man complains as he throws himself onto the bed making Geralt bounce and nick his finger on the blade. He glares at the bard who throws an arm over his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"We will, Jaskier, stop worrying." He tries to comfort the dramatic man beside him, failing miserably. Surprisingly Jaskier moves his arm and smiles at the Witcher.

"Thanks," he turns over, facing the wall and seemingly trying to sleep. Geralt continues cleaning his weapons.

It's only hours later when the Witcher lays down to sleep, sighing at the small space for his larger frame. He lays in his side, not bothering with a blanket. The bed shifts, Jaskier turning over to face Geralt.

"Geralt," he whispers, voice soft in the darkness of the room. "Geralt what if we don't find it." He doesn't explain past that, he doesn't need to.

"We will, Jaskier, just go to sleep okay?" Geralt turns, facing the other side of the room. His mind tells him he can fix this, but his heart beats out something different.

***

"GERALT I CAN'T LACE MY BOOTS WHAT IF I FALL OVER AND HURT MYSELF." Jaskier cries, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Geralt sighs, rubbing his eyes but unable to deny Jaskier any request. "Geralt this is serious," the man cries again, sounding miserable but dramatic as normal.

"Jaskier breath, it's fine." Geralt kneels down in front of the man, regretting his decision immediatly when Jaskier makes a noise of suprise. He grasps the mans ankle and brings the bard's foot to his knee. "Stop whining so much and just ask." The Witcher grumbles, lacing the boots and tying them quickly.

"For once it's you at my beck and call!" The man singsongs, fear forgotten in favor of teasing his companion. Geralt growls, tying his other shoe and then standing violently. 

"I'm always at your beck and call," the older man mutters, pulling the bard to stand. "We need to leave, it's already been more hours than- stop scratching." Geralt smacks the other mans hand away, scowling at the now bloody gauze he had wrapped around the rash this morning. 

"Sorry," Jaskier mumbles, pulling his sleeve down agressively. Geralt sigh and gathers the rest of their gear, anxiety churning in his gut- a feeling he's not experienced often. They leave the inn silently, Jaskier meeting Roach with coos like a baby who seemed to eat up the attention completely. 

"Quit that," the white haired man grumbles, giving the horse a glare as he loads up their things. In response Roach bares her teeth, and then turns into Jaskier's touch. The Witcher rolls his eyes, readying his horse for their travel.

"Geralt what if we never find it and I wither away like an old rose and-" he cuts himself off with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sorry," he sighs. Geralt doesn't respond, humming slightly and grasping Roach's reigns in a strong grip if only to keep from reaching out to Jaskier.

"Let's go bard, the journey isn't long." The man growls out instead, cursing himself and the deep anger in his gut. The voice in his head screams that it should have been him- it could have been- no sense in lingering on what will never happen. 

He pulls Roach beside him out of the stabbles, he has bones to burn.

By the time the sun reaches its peak, Geralt is riding on the back of Roach with Jaskier walking beside him, petting the horses side every few minutes. The weather is nice, warm with a gentle breeze that always follows winter.

The bard wrestles with the strings of his lute, humming under his breath and cursing when something doesn't sound right. Occasionally, he will reach to scratch his wrist and Geralt will quickly tell him not to. Hours into the curse, the rash is four red bleeding lines down his arm, attempting to scab. On his other one is a new rashes eager to join its brother. The sight of it makes Geralts anger rise.

"Geralt, when we find the ghost do I have to burn the bones?" The man asks quietly, fingers still on his lute. "Or can you do it?" The witcher looks down at the man, thinking it over for a moment before sighing.

"It has to be you, bard." The man nods, watching Jaskier kick at the ground with his boot. He looks up, mouth opened to say something but recoils in horror with a loud shriek. The bard stumbles back, tripping over a rock and falling into the dirt on his ass. "Jaskier?" The Witcher asks, alarm evident in his voice. He stops roach and jumps off her back, making Jaskier cry out in fear again. Geralt hurries over to the man, watching tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to back away.

"No, no, no! You've taken enough damned Witch!" The man cries, shoving at Geralts shoulders when he gets close. The Witcher pauses, panic rising in him as he tries to figure out what to do.

"Jaskier! It's me! It's Geralt!" The man cries harder, smacking his arms and chest with more force than Geralt expects, nearly shoving him away. With a frustrated growl the bigger man grips tight around his friends body, pulling him in until the bard presses against Geralt's chest.

"No, no!" The bard thrashes, trying to shove out of the Witcher's embrace. Geralt grinds his teeth and holds the man close, remembering that hallucinations are apart of the curse. He wants nothing more than to rip that ghosts body apart, but instead holds on tighter to Jaskier.

"Jaskier, it's okay. You're okay." He tries to sooth, hating the broken sounds coming from the bard. He would do anything to never hear that again. "Please...Jask." the name leaves his lips without his permission as he holds on tight to the man. Slowly, the sobs turn into shallow cries, and then finally silence.

"Geralt?" The bard asks, voice tired and gruff. The Witcher pulls away, looking down at Jaskier as if to make sure he's okay. "Geralt I- i'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." He whispers, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Geralt hums, mind going back to the Witch Jaskier seemed so afraid of.

"It's okay- but we need to go." The bard nods and pushes away from the other man, standing and brushing his pants off. He scoffs at the dirt on his clothes, swaying slightly when he reaches of his lute. Geralt watches him, already knowing what he's going to do as he walks to Roach. He apologizes as he motions for Jaskier to follow him. "You'll ride with me, it will be faster." 

Jaskier looks suprised, but follows him to Roach none the less. The horse huffs as they get situated, Jaskier sliding on right behind the larger man. He wraps his arms around Geralts waist, laying his head on his shoulder as they ride. Geralt watches the horizon and tries to think about how Jaskier being so close makes him feel.

"Okay, this is it." Geralt wakes his companion, staring up at the abandoned castle-like structure. It's big, but the Witcher is confident he can find the bones before its too late. The only issue will be if Jaskier can burn them or not.

Over the past hour Jaskier has gotten worse, mumbling about a witch and complaining about the howling of wolves. Geralt is pretty sure he's getting closer to their deadline, and it will only get worse. 

Jaskier slowly lifts his head from the Witcher's shoulder, shifting back so the man can hop off of Roach. He quickly helps the bard down, grunting when the man nearly kicks him in the stomach. Jaskier looks tired, leaning on his friend with closed eyes as Geralt leads him inside of the dilapidated building. 

Inside is even worse than it looks, rubble all over the floor and the ceiling missing in some places. An eerie whistle of the wind is the only noise, and it sets Geralt on edge. "We need to find those bones and get this over with." The small pouch of magical igniting dust -thanks Yennefer- is his only hope for Jaskier to survive the night, but it's up to the bard for the rest.

"I can't tell if that's a hullucination or the actual ghost." Jaskier says, voice suprisingly relaxed. Geralt tenses and turns, reaching for the iron weapon on his hip. His eyes find the translucent figure baring its teeth at them from down the hall. He stands guard in a doorway, and the Witcher knows the bones must be there. Thankfully not far from the entrance, but Jaskier has to somehow get around the ghost and burn the remains. 

"Jaskier, take this." He passes the pouch to the bard, panic creeping into his gut when the man's hand shakes as he takes it. "And cover the body with it, using intent." Whatever that means. The Witcher thinks bitterly, eyes still on the ghost that doesn't move. 

"I don't think I can-"

"Shut up, you have to." Geralt bites out, letting his eyes snap to Jaskier who gulps but nods. His face is pale as he hesitantly steps towards the ghost. In an instant, the spirit moves, letting out a loud shriek and flying towards Jaskier. Before he reaches the man, Geralt's iron sword swings through the ghost who disspears like smoke. "NOW JASKIER!" 

The bard stumbles once, twice, rights himself and hurries in the direction of the room. Geralt watches him, tensing when a low growl sounds over his shoulder. He turns just as the ghost pounces, feeling entirely real as it shoves him into a wall. The iron sword hits the ground with a clatter as ice cold hands wrap around the Witcher's neck.

Geralt grunts as he tries to pry steel hands away from him. "Jaskier!" He chokes out, worried, not because he might die from lack of oxygen, but because Jaskier could die in the next twenty minutes. "JASKIER!" He calls, managing to move a finger of the ghosts as he presses on the mans throat harder. 

As Geralt really begins to worry, the ghost suddenly releases him and backs up with a scream. Flames appear from nowhere, licking up the spirits legs until it reaches his face. The ghost throws its head back, screaming as it turns completely to ash. 

Geralt coughs once, grimacing at the pain in his throat. "Well that was dramatic." comes a tired voice as Jaskier exits the room. "The bones were there- convenient for us." 

"Lucky, for us." The Witcher reminds him, walking over to pick up the Iron sword. He stares at it bitterly as he sheaths it. 

"Eh, more like the author was just lazy." The bard sighs, rubbing his face. Geralt looks at him, confused, but shrugs it off. When has Jaskier's words ever made sense?

"Well, looks like you avoided another near death experience." 

"Lets not make this a thing- okay?"

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember which tumblr user posted about the nickname 'jask' but if u know comment their @ cuz that shit was so cute I had to use it.


End file.
